As a kid, I had a fascination with floor plans... those birds-eye maps of the inside of a structure that lets you see every room, doorway, closet, hallway... or even secret passageway (if one existed) all at the same time. Unlike walking through a building or home and only truly knowing what you can physically see in each area, the floor plan allows you to virtually walk through but know exactly what is beyond every wall. Maybe I'm weird, but I found them fascinating (and still do).
I remember in younger grades, my friend Brian and I would draw floor plans in our spare time at school. They were Dr. Seuss-like floor plans that could never feasibly be built in three dimensions, but were wildly creative in two dimensions... with indoor pools and game rooms and secret passages galore (that lead to many of the same places the non-secret passages lead, but one never knows when you want to go from the game room to the kitchen for a snack without anybody knowing how you got there!)
Later, in high school, Brian and I took a mechanical drawing class together (back in the day of old-fashioned paper, pencil and t-square drawings), where we spent the school year drawing various mechanical parts and widgets that were never really going to be machined, all the while listening to John Cougar's Jack and Diane every day on the radio. (I swear, in 1980-something they played that song EVERY hour, EVERY day!) However, the assignment that I couldn't wait to be assigned was the end of the year project. Our local newspaper had a small weekly feature of a sketch of a home floor plan. I used to enjoy this feature and get my weekly geek on as I poured over every voyeuristic detail of the inside of each house. For a few bucks, you could order a non-building "blueprint" of the home, and from that print you could order the much more expensive building sets. For our assignment, we had to pick a home from the newspaper and order the "blueprint". Using it as a model, we had to draw our own set of dimensioned building plans, complete with 4-sided elevations and site map. I ordered my plans and couldn't wait for them to arrive. I loved every hour spent on the drafting stool crafting my floor plans. Of course, I got an "A" on my final project... and I still have those drawings. (Incidentally, my buddy Brian later hired an architect to draw building plans of a very slightly modified version of the house he drew in the class. He physically built it himself and currently lives in it!)
Fast forward to 2001 and I was very dissatisfied with my chosen career. Another friend, Phil, was an architect and looking to hire a draftsman. He approached me one day and asked me if I had any interest in learning the trade of CAD (Computer Aided Drafting). Any interest? Heck yeah! He trained me as a draftsman and I spent every day doing something I really enjoyed... pouring over each new sketch as I did those black-and-white newspaper sketches years earlier. That job went away with the crash of the housing market in 2008, but that, too, is another story.
So what does all of that have to do with my present home?
It was originally a 1920's vintage 3 bed, 1 bath colonial, to which someone later added 2 separate additions on the back. The home had inherent interior floorplan flaws and was in much need of updating, but the me that had loved floor plans since childhood and the me that was then employed as an architectural draftsman walked through it and saw not what it was, but what it could be. I fell in love with a vision, and I had a dream of taking that vision beyond my ability to draw it and actually create it. And, that is where good old common sense evidently failed me. I convinced my wife to purchase it and I have paid a very dear price (in many different ways) for that decision.
Despite the bad decision, the interior is now about 75% brand new... gutted, walls moved, rewired, replumbed, reducted, drywalled, etc. Though it came at a high cost, I am proud of what has been accomplished. But, there was one very major detail that has haunted me a LONG time.
The first addition that someone added to the home was the 2-story area on the rear of the home (to the right in the pic below). It tied in nicely with the existing hip-style roof and was fairly well done, making the home L-shaped. Later someone added a second horribly constructed addition of an enclosed porch and sunroom (to the left in the pic below). This addition had a flat roof that was very problematic and leaky. I knew this when I purchased the home, and I had an idea what I wanted to do to remedy it. For a number of reasons, though, that was always put off, partly because it was a big (and a little scary) project.
1st addition (right), family room with 4th bedroom above
2nd addition (left), enclosed porch with sunroom above
The roof leaks in that area of the house got worse and I decided I needed to get serious about tackling it. By this time, we were not actually using the porch/sunroom area, so I gutted it to study the structure and plan my roof redesign. What I discovered was that it was so poorly constructed, the parts of the structure I was planning to salvage and update were not even salvageable. I did some measuring and some calculating and visualized a necessary (and more costly than I had in mind) complete tear down and rebuild of this area. I probably could have built the new addition myself, but I decided I didn't want to and didn't really have time. So, I consulted with a local contractor about the project. I provided him only 2 hand-drawn sketches (below) and asked him if they could tear it off and build something that looked like this. They understood my vision and we hashed out a contract.
Before... the flat-roofed menace
I stripped the original siding and salvaged it for re-use.
I also salvaged the aluminum storm windows for scrap.
A buddy salvaged the old window sashes for the antique glass.
My part of the demo/salvage done and the contractor's "before"
All but floor and foundation came down in one day... good riddance!
Down to the ground, demo done the second day
[Insert ghost story here] I didn't get a photo of it (because it was too dark), but under the floor deck, in the earthen crawlspace, we discovered a very dead floral arrangement in a very old dusty basket... the kind you might see at a funeral. It was laying on it's side on the dirt in the middle of the crawlspace... sort of like you would see placed on a fresh grave. So, it begs the question... just whom did they bury here and build a porch over? And, since we didn't dig around, just whom did we build my new porch over? My theory is that it was poor Uncle Joe, who couldn't afford a cemetery plot and loved sitting on porches. Uncle Joe probably passed away just as they were getting ready to build the last addition, so they planted him, placed flowers on his grave, and built a porch over him. He must approve of the new porch, because he has yet to make a haunting appearance through all the disturbances of the renovation. I affectionately now refer to the new porch as "Uncle Joe's porch".
The new design is a porch below with a walk-in closet/storage room above
After
The "finished" product... at least the paid portion of finished. I will take it from here and finish the closet interior and the porch interior, which is planned to be enclosed as a screened porch... someday!
I really didn't like writing the checks for this addition subtraction addition, but it is a relief to have it done and a big monkey off my back. I am very happy with the result... it looks just as I envisioned it. I have to admit that I have been ashamed of my house since I purchased it because of this mess of an addition. It's not completely finished, and though I acknowledge it is still one of my worst decisions... I now at least have a home for my family of which I am proud.
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